An Impossible Attraction (36 page)

She loved St. James.

He flung the bottle at the other seat, hard, and it shattered. Then he covered his face with his hands. He was filled with anguish, and it felt unbearable! He’d never felt this way before. He had never been denied anything he dearly wanted!

And what about their child? Would she ever have told him about their child?

He wasn’t sure, and he was so angry that he had no intention of giving her the benefit of the doubt. There had been so many moments when she could have told him—he’d intentionally given her openings. But she never had. Alexandra was so adept at lying to him. She had lied about her innocence, and she had lied about her pregnancy. His heart cracked widely apart now. He felt certain she’d intended to deceive him for as long as possible.

But what if she had been telling the truth when she said that she had intended to tell him about their child? His heart screamed at him.

His heart was not to be trusted, obviously. He was a rational man! And what she’d intended did not matter—because of St. James.

He would never let another man raise his child.

His heart lurched as he thought about that. He realized that the carriage had stopped. He turned to look grimly outside and saw Alexi’s grand Oxford home, brilliantly lit up in the middle of a cloudy night. He’d bought it back when he and Elysse were estranged, and the magnificent country manor was set on ten acres, surrounded by gardens and a game park. Stephen got out, the footman carefully pretending he didn’t know that the duke was drunk, and had smashed a bottle of old and costly scotch whiskey in the back of his once-clean coach.

Alexi did not keep doormen, and Stephen rang the bell and used the door knocker, rudely and loudly, simultaneously. Alexi greeted him a moment later barefoot, shirtless, clad only in a pair of trousers—and holding a pistol in his hand. His eyes widened. “Come in,” he quickly said. “Has someone died?”

Stephen strode past him. “I could use a drink.” He walked down the hall and into the library where he’d spent so much time with Alexi and his other cousins.

After closing the front door, Alexi followed him inside. Stephen was staring at the small fire burning in the hearth, wishing the pain in his chest would go away.

Alexi turned on several lights and said, “You have come a long way for a drink. But you certainly look as if you could use one—though you stink of liquor already. And you do not have a coat, though it is freezing out.”

“I smashed a bottle of whiskey inside my coach.” He turned to look at his friend.

Alexi’s eyes widened again. “You never smash things—unless it is my nose.” He walked over to the sideboard and began pouring drinks. “It is one in the morning, by the way.”

Stephen looked at him. “I have something to tell you.”

“I suspected as much.” Alexi handed him a glass.

Stephen did not drink. “Alexandra is carrying my child.”

Alexi’s eyes widened, and he began to smile. Then he sobered. “Stephen, if you do not think this is good news, I will pummel some sense into you. She is a fine woman, and you do not have any children—and you certainly need sons.”

Stephen made a dismissive sound. “I’m a bastard, and I swore I’d never inflict that stigma on a child.”

Alexi smiled. “Then marry her, you dammed fool.”

Stephen’s grasp on the glass tightened. His jaw was so rigid, he wondered if he might crack his teeth. Of course he should marry her. She was carrying his child. And suddenly he could see a future with her as his wife—and it was a bright, cheerful future, filled with joy and light. Except he did not think she would choose him over her true love. He was certain she would turn him down.

“She loves someone else.”

Alexi choked.

“Can you believe it?”

Alexi put his own drink down, in order to clasp Stephen’s shoulder. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure—and not because I caught them together. She told me all about the one and only true love of her life—whom she meant to marry nine years ago.” He stared at Alexi, wishing St. James were present, so he could throttle him and get him out of their lives. “He was courting her. She turned him away when her mother died, so she could sacrifice herself and her happiness for her family. But that,” he inhaled, “is Alexandra.”

“What do you mean, you caught them together?” Alexi asked carefully.

“I did not catch them in bed, if that is what you’re thinking. I caught them with their heads together, in an affectionate embrace.”

“And because of that, you think she still loves her old flame?”

Stephen nodded.

Alexi shrugged. “As I said, she is a fine woman. And you always get what you want, so if you want her, go get her. You are at your best when you have a rival. And by the way, we all approve—very much.”

Stephen was disbelieving. “Didn’t you hear what I said? She’s in love with St. James!” And old Tom leered at him again. He would never beg for her love. No one should beg for love. It was either freely given or it was worthless. “Oh, I forgot to tell you the rest of it—he’s a widower now, so they can ride off together into the sunset, their wedding rings glinting.” He choked on the last words.

How could losing her hurt so terribly?

Suddenly Elysse appeared in a nightgown and wrapper. “Stephen? Is everything all right?”

He felt like a child again, one living in the lonely splendor of Clarewood, doing his best to please the duke and always failing. He saw old Tom in a corner of the room, laughing cruelly at him. That old man had never once said he’d cared, was proud, or that he loved the boy he’d made into his son.

He turned his back on Elysse, trying to find composure. Alexi said, “We are fine, sweetheart. Go back to bed. I won’t be up for a while—if at all.”

Stephen heard her leave. He inhaled and said harshly, “I am sorry. I did not mean to be rude to Elysse.”

“You have finally found love. Therefore you are forgiven.”

Stephen faced Alexi. “You may be right, but do not start in on me with all that de Warenne myth and tradition. I am not a de Warenne, I am Clarewood—I am more old Tom’s son than I am Sir Rex’s. And Alexandra is making plans to marry her beloved Owen even as we speak.”

“Are you certain?” Alexi asked.

Stephen spoke with care, considering his own words. “Of course I am certain. I know Alexandra. She is the kind of woman to give her heart once in a lifetime.” But oddly, just then, as his heart screamed at him, he felt some doubt. Still, he had seen them together. They had looked as intimate as lovers. He
hated
St. James!

Alexi began shaking his head.

“What does that mean?” Stephen demanded.

“It means a man blinded by love is exactly that—blind. You can’t possibly see clearly—or think clearly—now. And Elysse happens to think Alexandra is perfect for you. She also thinks that Alexandra loves you. In fact, she told me that Alexandra is not the kind of woman to have an affair, not unless it is about love.”

Stephen stared, breathing hard. He wanted to believe it, and for one moment, recalling the way she had caressed his cheek and looked at him with soft, shining eyes, he almost did. Hadn’t he been her first? Hadn’t she tried to refuse him on moral grounds? But then he recalled how he had found her and St. James in the front hall, and Alexandra had been caressing the other man’s cheek just the way she’d caressed his. He could barely breathe. “You haven’t seen them together.”

“No, I haven’t, but as I said, right now you are blind. Have you spoken to her? Really spoken to her?”

Stephen tensed and began to pace.

“I thought so. You had a terrific row and then you left. Why don’t you go home and go to sleep, and when you wake up—and recover from tonight’s overconsumption of whiskey—you can have a calm, rational discussion with her.”

Stephen turned. “I do not think I will ever be rational again.”

Alexi smiled.

“It is hardly amusing.”

“Actually, Stephen, seeing you brokenhearted and taken down a peg or two by a good woman is very amusing—and well overdue.”

A part of him did want to go home, awaken Alexandra and demand to know if she cared about him—if she loved him, even a little. And if he made love to her first, he could probably entice her into just such a declaration.

Do you love St. James?

I love you.

Do you love St. James?

Of course I love him….

“Thank you for being so understanding,” he muttered. But what if she did love him a little? After all, she was carrying
his
child, not Owen’s.

Alexi came over and clapped him on the shoulder. “If you tell her how you feel, or even if you don’t, and you simply offer marriage, I feel certain she will accept.”

Stephen wasn’t certain, not at all. And then he realized that didn’t matter, either. What mattered was their child. They should marry for the sake of the child.

He stared, his heart hammering. “I am not going to tell her that I love her, given the probability that she does not love me back.”

“Why not? What do you have to lose?”

“I have some pride left,” he said brusquely. He somehow knew he could not withstand making that kind of confession, not if she did not say the words to him in return.

“And that might be all you have left, if you don’t tell her how you feel,” Alexi said. “So what will you do? Allow her to run off with St. James?” His stare was piercing.

Stephen felt his anger surge. “You bloody well know I would never let my child be raised by someone else!”

“But you’ve told me a hundred times that you will be a terrible father—just like old Tom.” Alexi’s eyes were wide and innocent.

Stephen told himself that he was not going home to tell Alexandra that he had fallen in love with her, nor would he beg her to choose him over St. James. Dukes did not beg.

Dukes issued orders—and ultimatums.

Tom mocked him openly now.

“I never said Tom Mowbray was a terrible father. He was a harsh disciplinarian—but he has made me the man that I am.”

“No, you are who you are because you are a de Warenne, Stephen, and you had Julia to offset Tom’s cruelty.”

“I have to go,” Stephen said abruptly, turning.

Alexi followed him through the door. “What will you do?”

Stephen paused in the front hall. “We will marry for the sake of the child,” he said.

Alexi’s eyes widened. “I suggest you ask her
pleasantly
.”

Stephen smiled coldly. “I am not feeling very pleasant, Alexi.”

Alexi groaned.

A
LEXANDRA SAT IN THE WINDOW
seat of her bedroom at dawn, Olivia beside her, Corey curled up asleep in a nearby chair. A tray of refreshments sat on the small breakfast table to their left. Her sisters had apparently overheard them shouting at one another, and had come to Alexandra’s room immediately. They hadn’t left her even once during the course of the entire, endless night.

And endless it had been. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. Her heart ached so much. She hadn’t slept at all last night, and how could she? She had been shocked and hurt by Stephen’s anger and accusations. It was a nightmare come true. To make matters even worse, he’d left Clarewood at midnight, returning three hours later. She didn’t want to imagine where he’d gone, but there seemed to be only one possible explanation for a man leaving his home in the middle of the night like that. He’d sought comfort from another woman, she was sure.

Alexandra sat with her cheek on her raised knee. She was brokenhearted.

Olivia caressed her stiff shoulder. “What will you do?”

She lifted her head. “I will have to make myself presentable, go downstairs and continue the discussion.”

Olivia’s stare became searching. “That was not a discussion.”

“No, it was not.” Alexandra hugged both knees to her chest.

“How could he become so hateful to you when he was so kind and generous before?”

“I was afraid of this. I have never known anyone with such a temper. It is rare. But he apparently cannot withstand what he thinks is dishonesty.” She felt like crying all over again. “I was going to tell him about the child last night. Can you believe it? And I would have told him Owen was in town, too!”

Olivia took her hand. “You were right and I was wrong—at least about Clarewood.”

Corey surprised them when she said, “I think he loves Alexandra.”

Alexandra jumped, surprised to realize her sister had awoken. “I wish you were right, but I am afraid you are wrong.”

“No, I am right—two men love you, and he is angry because of Owen.”

Alexandra did not think so. He was furious over the child, just as she had expected in her heart of hearts. She slid her feet to the wood floor, which was icy cold. “I should get up. He is an early riser.” She trembled, already ill with fear.

But as she stood, a knock sounded on her door, startling her. “Come in.”

The door opened and Stephen stood there, so ravaged in appearance, his eyes so dark and determined, that she gasped in shock. Instantly she knew he’d not yet been to bed. She wondered if he’d been drinking, but it was impossible to tell. “I wish a word with you now,” he said.

She was alarmed and looked at her sisters, but they were already standing, their expressions indicating the same worry and surprise that she felt. Olivia caught her eye, and Alexandra said, “I’ll be fine,” though she knew the words were a lie.

They hurried across the room and scooted past Stephen, who did not even look at them, much less greet them. When they were gone, his hands went to his hips, his posture aggressive.

Alexandra hugged herself. “I despise arguing with you.”

“Then don’t lie.”

She debated defending herself yet again but was sure he wouldn’t believe her. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Good. I have no intention of fighting with you, either—not now. Not when you are carrying my child.” He paused, looking at her meaningfully.

She tensed. “Yes, I am,” she said, unsure as to his intent.